Valery had just parked near the house and was heading to the entrance when he suddenly heard his wife Alyona’s scream. He instantly recognized it as hers.
“What happened?” he thought anxiously, quickening his pace.
The elevator was out of order, likely being held up from above, so Valery took the stairs two at a time. Bursting into the apartment, he immediately heard Alyona sobbing.
In the middle of the living room lay a pile of bright silk fabric, and sitting calmly in a chair was his mother, Natalya Ivanovna, holding a pair of large scissors. Alyona sat on the sofa, crying.
“What happened?” Valery asked.
Alyona gestured at the fabric. “My new lingerie set,” she said through her tears. “I bought it yesterday to surprise you.”
“You’ve lost your dignity,” Natalya Ivanovna commented dryly. “What kind of example are you setting for your son?”
“Leshka is at camp,” Valery replied firmly. “How did you get in here, Mom? I took your keys!”
“You deny me access to my own son’s house?” Natalya snapped back. “I come when I want and I will continue to. I will not tolerate immorality.”
“I can’t take this anymore!” Alyona suddenly stood up and walked to the kitchen.
Natalya Ivanovna glared after her. “When will you divorce this woman?” she asked Valery. “Aren’t you tired of being a joke?”
“Mom, what’s going on?” Valery asked patiently. “What has she done to you? I live with her and I’m happy.”
“She’s a loose woman!” Natalya Ivanovna repeated stubbornly.
“On what grounds?”
“I know her. Would a decent woman buy something like this?” She gestured to the torn lingerie. “Send her away and find a proper wife.”
“Calm down, Mom, and stop interfering in my life,” Valery said irritably. “Neither I nor Dimka have any peace. Don’t you have other things to worry about?”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Natalya barked. “The chicken doesn’t teach the egg.”
She stood up and went to the exit. Valery followed her, ensuring she wouldn’t do anything else.
After closing the door, he returned to the kitchen where Alyona was still crying. There was an open bottle of wine on the table, and she was drinking from a glass.
“Valera, we need to do something,” she said, taking another sip. “I had everything planned—Leshka on vacation, dinner… Thank God she didn’t come earlier. What if she had?”
“I’ll call a locksmith and change the locks,” Valery said, trying to keep his irritation in check.
“That won’t help!” Alyona replied, raising her voice. “Can’t you see? She’ll think of something!”
“And what do you suggest?”
Valery had a feeling he already knew the answer and dreaded it.
“Don’t you see that your mother has mental problems?” she asked. “She could be dangerous. She cut up my lingerie today—what’s next?”
“Stop talking nonsense!” Valery snapped, though he knew deep down she was right, which only made him angrier.
“Valera, do something!” she cried, downing another glass of wine. “I can’t take this anymore!”
A knock at the door startled both of them, and they flinched, thinking it was Natalya Ivanovna returning.
“It’s not her,” Alyona whispered.
Nervously, Alyona reached for a knife, but Valery stopped her.
“Have you lost your mind?”
It wasn’t Natalya Ivanovna. It was Marina, Dima’s wife, calling from the living room.
“Valera, Alyona, are you home?” Marina asked.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Alyona replied, and Marina entered.
“The front door was open,” she noted, looking at Alyona disapprovingly.
“So, did our mother visit you too?” Alyona asked, gesturing to the living room, where the torn lingerie remained.
“What did she do to your things?” Alyona asked.
“My new stockings are ruined,” Marina replied, not upset but rather intrigued, as if she had stumbled upon a secret.
“I think I know why Natalya Ivanovna is acting this way,” Marina said, a triumphant smile on her face.
“Well, tell us,” Alyona urged impatiently.
“Let’s wait for Dimka,” Marina suggested. “I swear, you’ll want to hear this. I’ve found something.”
Marina didn’t disappoint. The information she revealed shocked Valery and Dima and brought an end to their mother’s tyranny.
An hour later, Dima joined them in the living room after his shift at work, still wearing a wrinkled shirt. His eyes widened at the sight of the shredded lingerie.
“What the hell happened here?” he asked, looking from the torn fabric to his wife’s tear-streaked face.
“We’ll explain later,” Valery said. “Marina has something important to share.”
Marina nodded and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through some saved images before looking up at them seriously.
“For the last few days,” she began, “I’ve been wondering why Mom’s behavior has gotten worse. First, it was odd comments about ‘immorality.’ Then she started showing up uninvited, going through my stuff, claiming she was cleaning. And then she ruined my stockings for Dima’s birthday dinner.” She paused. “I decided to investigate her past.”
“Her past?” Valery echoed. “You actually dug into her past?”
“Well, kind of,” Marina admitted. “I started with old photo albums and then found a box at your parents’ old house, Valera. It was labeled with your father’s name.”
Valery’s heart sank. His father had passed away five years ago. “And what did you find?” he asked, anxious.
Marina took a breath. “Letters and diaries. Let’s just say, Mom wasn’t always so uptight. She used to be a dancer in a touring troupe. I found pictures of her in costumes that were more revealing than anything we own. And from the diaries, there was an incident that caused her to quit dancing.”
Valery couldn’t believe it. “She never told us any of this. She always said she worked in accounting and married Dad while working in an office.”
“That’s not the full story,” Marina continued. “There was a scandal—someone in the troupe accused her of flirting with a married manager. There were rumors, confrontations, and then everything fell apart. She left the troupe, and from her diaries, it’s clear she felt ashamed. She vowed to never lose her dignity again, and I think that’s why she’s so controlling now.”
Valery exchanged a look with Alyona, and Dima shook his head in disbelief. “So, she used to be a performer, got caught up in a scandal, and now she’s on a crusade against anything she thinks is immoral?”
Marina nodded. “She never dealt with the trauma. She buried it all, and now that we’re adults buying lingerie and stockings, it’s triggering her. She’s trying to protect us, but it’s really just about protecting her own reputation.”
Valery sighed. A part of him felt sympathy for his mother, understanding now where her judgmental streak came from, but that didn’t justify her behavior.
Alyona spoke up. “That doesn’t excuse her ripping up my things. We need to set boundaries.”
Everyone agreed. They couldn’t keep living under her constant interference. They decided to confront Natalya Ivanovna as a family.
The next day, Dima invited their mother over for tea, and when she walked in, the tension was thick. She immediately demanded, “Why are you all gathered here? Have you finally come to your senses, Valera, and decided to leave that woman?”
Alyona clenched her fists, but Valery placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Mom, we need to talk,” he said, trying to keep his composure. “We need to understand what’s going on with you. Why do you feel the need to—”
“To protect my sons and their families from disgrace?” she interrupted. “If you’d listen to me, neither your wife nor that one—” she gestured toward Marina “—would behave so brazenly.”
Marina took a deep breath, but Dima put his hand over hers and spoke up. “Mom, we know about your time in the dance troupe.”
Natalya Ivanovna paled. “Who told you that nonsense?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“Does it matter?” Marina said gently, “You were a talented dancer. You looked amazing.”
Her face reddened, and she teared up. “That was a lifetime ago,” she whispered. “I was foolish. I let everyone talk about me. They said I was a flirt. And your father—” she paused, her voice catching. “He supported me, but I was so ashamed. I promised myself I’d be a ‘decent woman.’ And I never wanted you to suffer the same embarrassment.”
Valery stood up and walked to his mother. “Mom, we’re not perfect. But you’re hurting us with your ‘protection.’ Ripping up lingerie, showing up uninvited, ruining things—that’s not caring. It’s controlling.”
Natalya Ivanovna broke down into tears. “I’m sorry. I was afraid. Afraid you’d repeat my mistakes. I thought… if I stopped it, everything would stay respectable. But I see now I’ve been projecting my fear onto all of you.”
Alyona, still shaken by what had happened, forced herself to speak calmly. “We’re a family. But there have to be boundaries. We love you, but you can’t keep coming in and judging our choices.”
Marina added, “We’ll respect your past, but you have to respect our present. We’re allowed to be ourselves.”
Natalya Ivanovna nodded slowly, tears in her eyes. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “I’ll return the keys and promise not to barge into your lives anymore. I just don’t want you to be hurt the way I was.”
Dima joined them, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We understand. But if you’re hurting us in the process, that’s not protection—it’s pain.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. Maybe I do need help—someone to talk to who isn’t family. Will you help me?”
Valery nodded. “Of course, Mom. If you need therapy, we’ll support you.”
In the following days, the locks were changed, and Natalya Ivanovna handed over the keys. She stayed away unless invited, and began seeing a counselor. Slowly, her hostility faded, replaced by a willingness to reconnect with her family.
As for Alyona’s lingerie and Marina’s stockings, both were replaced. But more importantly, the family had started to heal. It wasn’t easy, but facing their issues together gave them a chance to move forward.
When Leshka came back from camp, he noticed the change at home. His parents seemed more relaxed, though sometimes they exchanged knowing glances. Occasionally, he caught his grandmother watching him with a quiet seriousness, as if determined to never let her past fears ruin his future.
And so, the family found a fragile peace. They weren’t perfect, but they were healing. Natalya Ivanovna wasn’t quite the same, but she was learning to let go of the past and accept the present.
In life, we all carry wounds—some bigger than others. And sometimes, in our attempts to protect those we love, we end up hurting them even more. But with honesty, respect, and understanding, even the deepest wounds can begin to heal.